Resgaal's Sorrows [Lost Age RP; Closed]

[Numer]

Resgaal's Sorrows

The Royal Portrait of Ensi Vashim Uran of Numer

Ensi Vashim sat upon the Ivory Throne, his radiant face holding a look of serenity as courtiers strolled through his magnificent palace. Everyone, from the lowliest servant to the most honorable lugal, seemed blissful in their every manner as they went about the day's tasks. Slaves decorated the already beautiful palace as chefs prepared days ahead for the joyous wedding feast soon to take the city of Sepris by storm. Even citizens seemed excited as they hung beautiful banners and ribbons on their homes. The Crown Prince of Numer, and, who most believed, future Ensi, Belbazzar Uran would be wed to Kadijat Myathu, daughter of the Lugalesh of Urvarys.

The Numerians knew it was a good time to celebrate. The Empire had survived the Age of Chaos and the Rifting to emerge and thrive in what people were now calling the New Age. Contact with the distant Migser had caused trade to flourish, and although rumors of the Palamecian Undead reemerging circled, no disaster had yet befalled the land of the sacred rivers. The Ensi himself was an old, wise man, adored by his people and blessed with three strong sons. Belbazzar, his first, was a great warrior, a little hot-headed, but a powerful leader nonetheless. His second son Ithiba was a quick, cunning man, a master of intrigue and business alike. Finally, his youngest son Vaserassur was a genius and rumored to be favored by the god Serin, a scholar and a devout priest.

Happy with the hand fate had dealt him, Vashim ruled with benevolence, and these past few days his demeanor was alight with pride and anticipation. How scared he was, a mere boy at 14, when he and his father Xashalbin marched against the accursed at the Battle of Dead Plains; but those days were long gone. As he pondered these thoughts, sitting on his throne, a loyal scribe approached him.

"My Ensi," the scribe said respectfully, "You have requested me?"

"Yes," Vashim's raspy, yet kind, voice replied, "I have made a decision to invite the other great leaders of this world to my son's wedding. Surely we can impress with our wealth, fostering peace between our people and others, and if not,we shall certainly intimidate them with our power. Write this down, and have it sent to all the nation of Migser, the Empire of Man, Rar Silf, Taavok de Dova, even the distant elves- all the nations of Casibica, our glorious continent, and beyond!"

The message was relayed to nearly all of the leaders of the nations Numer had interacted with; even an Orc Nob was invited to the wedding. It was written in the Numerian cuneiform, though each messenger was learned in the language of the nation he was traveling to, ready to translate.

To the Great Nations of this Earth,

Come, one and all, to the land of the sacred rivers! The Crown Prince of Numer will be wed a two weeks' time from now in the glorious capital city of Sepris, in the great delta of the Suppir River; the great Ensi Vashim Uran has requested of your leaders or their representatives to visit for the ceremony, to foster trade and good relations with each other's peoples. A joyous feast will be held for the traditional period of twelve days, and guests will be treated with the greatest luxuries available to the Numerian Empire.

If a sovereign or their diplomat would like to attend, please see to it that a reply arrives in the capital.

In the Grace of the Goddess, and the Power of the Gods,
Chief Scribe Damata Bedakket of House Uran

[Tuthina]

Despite the great distance between Numer and the Migser state, the invitation from the Ensi was successfully passed through the great waves and reached the port of Mtha'khob, the window of the Migsers towards Casibica. Being a messenger from one of the biggest, and arguably most important trading partner of the port town, the Numerian was welcomed by the ruling high priestess of the port and all the tributaries that was beyond the sands - Rhyödma Tormabu Zigsa, whom would attend the ceremony in the place of the high priestess of Glingka, the leader of the Rigskhag.

Several days after the messenger - along with a slave gifted by Zigsa - returned to Numer, the Migsers also embarked on their journey. Although built mostly for coastal travel, the trireme of the desert dwellers - one that resembled its Numerian counterpart, but decorated with bronze garments and a flaming cauldron at the top of the mast - successfully crossed the sea and reached the land of the sacred rivers.

As the ship moved into the shallow waters around the port the Migsers were told to debark, the white sail of the trireme, made of a special kind of silk that resembled sailcloth in terms of tenacity, was retracted, and the sailors on board - most of them being slaves of the priestesses - started to row the bronze-decorated ship towards the Numerian port.

Assam, after making sure that the ship was pointing towards its destination, and the sailors were working on the rows, walked towards the chamber of the priestesses. A man in his prime age, Assam's body is quite toned and healthy, as his bare brass-like skin exposed from the silk Migser garments. Like all the Migser people, a pair of animal ears - in this case, canine - could be spotted on top of his dark red hair, and a matching tail extending from his pelvis. His emerald-like iris enabled him to see in the rather dim cabin of the vessel, although it was still lit up with several oil lamp for the non-Migsers to be able to see anything.

After knocking on the door of the priestesses' cabin, Assam entered to inform them their arrival. It was a rather cozy cabin as far as a sea-going vessel was concerned, and was decorated with white silk and valuables for the guests. As the residence of the diplomat team, it housed about six priestesses, most of them sitting on the silk. The position and gestures of these women shown that they were either discussing something or was reading when the man arrived.

Wearing the traditional Migser underwear, the priestesses, like Assam, had most of their skin exposed in the incense-filled air of the cabin, accidentally (or otherwise) showing off their rather fine body to the man. He seemed not to be very concerned about them, though, as he walked pass them after a smile and a nod to them, before stopping in front of Zigsa, the high priestess of this vessel, and his mother.

Despite the blood relation, Zigsa was quite different from Assam, most notably that she was not a Migser biologically, as shown by her fair skin. About a head shorter than her son, Zigsa is slightly higher than the other priestesses, and had a curvy, if a bit lithe in the waist and wrists, body. Combined with the midnight black long hair to the waist, Zigsa appeared to be a baseline human from beyond the realm of the Migsers. Perhaps because of the young age when she gave birth to Assam, or that being a high priestess usually meant she would received great care to her body, Zigsa was quite attractive for a women at least in her thirties, and could be reasonably disguised as someone a dozen years younger than her.

"We have arrived at Numer, high priestess." Assam bowed to Zigsa and said. Zigsa glanced to her son and nodded, before moving down from the silk bed and gently raised his head with a smile.

"Thank you for your work, my dear." Zigsa said, before turning towards the priestesses, whom were either looking at the duo or packing the scrolls of Migser writings. Being at the side of her for at least years, if not decades, the priestesses immediately understood what she wanted to say. After a meaningful smile and nod, the priestesses soon put back their outer garments - a piece of white silk that concealed most of their body beneath, as a mean to protect them from the unforgiving sun outside. After packing up the scrolls and other packages, they left the cabin and gave the mother and son some private time, as the ship slowly moved into the Numerian port.

[Dbrought]

Even in the faraway northlands of Osentona word of the wedding reached the ears of the houses of Zelbae. With the arranged joining of House Broughton and house Laron coming to fruition, the lands of Zelbae were at last stable enough to consider relations with the southern lands beyond freelancing trading galleys. Captain Nathaniel Crowley knew of both the new found stability of the northern lands and upon hearing of the Ensi's letter decided to offer his ship and services to house Broughton as his latest business venture.

Zelbaen galley captains were fast and ruthless in their dealings with either business or combat and Captain Crowley was no different. While he was an independent captain he understood how the currents of power in his homelands was flowing, and like any good sailor knew the benefits of ridding currents that flowed in an amicable direction. As he suspected the nobles pounced at a chance of strengthening their power abroad making them even more cemented as the power in the north by both domestic and foreign eyes.

The journey was not extraordinarily long in time, but in climate it had already caused the nobles, unfamiliar to lands so far south, to be displeased with the fact that their finest garments were far to warm lush lands of Numer. Michael Broughton, however, had remained faithfully near the helm of the ship in rain, storm or shine seemingly impervious to all weather and interested in all the captain navigator and lieutenants could tell him of the seas they traveled and the lands they passed by. Michael Broughton, son of the honor guard captain Mathias Broughton, and High Captain of House Broughton's soldiers was a veteran of several campaigns against the monsters wildlings and barbarians of the wastes and forests beyond Zelbae with scars to prove it. Despite his honors Michael was yet to bed a wife, and so far had found little taste for the women of his own land. Only the thrill of battle, the feel of a heavy war axe in hand, and the crunch of an enemies' skull was what gave Michael the feeling of being alive. For reasons he was yet to understand he felt the urge to accompany his uncles and cousins on a journey. Perhaps it was a feeling of wanderlust that had not graced him in his youth like the others of his people. Whatever the cause Michael was excited for seeing this new land in a way unlike but equal in magnitude to his battlelust.

"LAND HO!"

The cry from the crow's nest rang clear through the ship causing the nobles below to scurry topside. While the eyes they had spent on reading decree books and the insides of holdfasts were not as strong as the warriors and sailors within the hour they too saw the coastline and the port for which they sailed.

"LOWER THE SAILS! READY OARS FOR MAKING PORT!"

The shout of the captain ordering a myriad of duties to each of the crew. Some of the nobles fled below to get out of the way. The ones who had lived more with their backs than minds however knew from experience the places to stand on a galley. It was all as needed to prepare. It would be the "fine" nobles below after all who would wear their finest garments, while the "warrior" nobles above who would walk through the halls in best kept armor they possessed.

"So eager Michael. I'd think you were about to fight the entirety of the port with the excitement coming from your figure."

"Would that be what called me on this voyage I'd say we would be destined for a fight worthy of the highest tables of the afterlife Ivan. My heart is eager for whatever lies in this land."

"Let us hope that you be fortunate brother. Your fortune often smiles on many including my back. Perhaps it will summon me an iceberg with this heat!"

"MWAHAHAH! It may yet brother! It may yet!"


"PORTFALL!!!"

The galley had pulled to the docks of its destination.